Harry
by Commodore Norrington
Summary: Harry fell asleep watching TV. Now he finds himself in a world that doesn't know he exists.
1. Things Get a Little Harry

Harry stumbled into his apartment, shaking out his umbrella and fumbling with his keys. Dropping his briefcase, he shed his jacket and shoes on his way to the blinking answering machine. Grabbing a glass of water, he loosened his tie as he listened to the messages.  
-_Beep- {Harry, this is Peter. Kilgore wants to talk to you tomorrow about the Yarrow case. Pretty big stuff, buddy. Word is, you nail this one and you're Kilgore's favorite boy. Partner in five years, maybe. See you tomorrow.}  
-Beep- {Harry, hi. This is Amy. Just wanted to chat. School's going pretty good. One of my profs is out to get me. Don't come busting up here to rescue little sister, though; I can take care of myself. How's life in the real world? Call me.}_  
Harry sighed as he slumped onto the couch. He was exhausted. He flipped on the TV, not knowing or really caring what he was watching. Some crime drama.  
"I hate Tuesdays," he muttered to himself. "Especially rainy ones." He smiled slightly at his own joke. Watching the slowly blurring flickering image on the television, he dropped off to sleep.  
He was completely unaware when a flash of lightning struck his TV antenna. The electricity traveled down the cable and exploded out of the television. The water on the floor conducted part of that electric current into Harry's body. He woke, convulsing, then dropped back onto the couch as if dead.

----------

"Mommy, is that man dead?"  
"No, sweetheart, he's just sleeping. Let's go."  
"Why is he sleeping here?"  
"He doesn't have a home, honey. Come on, we're going to be late."  
Harry opened his eyes slowly. He felt awful. He made a mental note to find a new couch; his was starting to feel very hard. _Wait, hard? Couches don't feel hard. This isn't my couch! Where am I?_  
He sat up quickly, fully awake now. He sat on a park bench in the middle of the Washington Mall, dressed in a suit. Well, minus the shoes and jacket. He ran a hand over his face. Stubble covered his chin, but not more than one night's worth. He didn't remember anything about the night. _Was I mugged? That would explain the way I feel. And the shoes and jacket..._He felt in his pants pockets. Change, wallet, watch...everything still there. _Not mugged, then. What happened last night?_  
Harry couldn't think of any possible scenario that would have landed him on a park bench with no memory of the event. He would have to figure it out later. He had to get to work. Hopping on a bus to not a few strange looks, he rode back to his apartment building. Taking the stairs two at a time, he fished for his keys. _Not here. Must have left them in the apartment.  
_ Sighing, he ran back downstairs to find the super. He ran past the building directory with hardly a glance. _Hold on_, he thought. _What was that?_ Backtracking, he gave the directory a thorough look. Where his name usually sat, next to number 316, was a different name. _Anthony DiNozzo? Who the heck is Anthony DiNozzo?_  
An idea suddenly dawned on him. He remembered a time in college when his buddies had rearranged his furniture while he was sleeping. He had awoken completely disoriented and fearing he was in someone else's room. Grinning slightly, he ran back up the stairs.  
"Hey!" he yelled as he pounded on the door. "Open up!"  
"What the – " a tired voice mumbled from inside. "Hold on, I'm coming!" Harry heard footsteps inside, then several locks opening. The door flew open. "What do you want?"  
"I want my apartment back! Did Peter put you up to this? How much did he pay you?" Harry tried to shove past the half-dressed, tousle-haired man in the doorway, but he was stronger than he looked.  
"Hey, buddy, I don't know what you're talking about. I've lived here for two years. The only Peter I know is my cousin." The man was starting to look at him strangely. He knew that look. It was the look people had given him on the bus, the one that said, 'Pity the poor crazy guy; he can't help himself.'  
"Um, look, I'm sorry," Harry started, embarrassed. "I just...I woke up on a park bench and I have no idea how I got there and I need to get to work because my boss wants to talk to me today about the Yarrow case and if I do well I could make partner in five years and I can't go to work without shoes and in the same clothes I wore yesterday and I really need to get into my apartment and shave or something and I – "  
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, slow down," the man said, holding up a hand. "Look, I'm really sorry. I honestly have no idea what you're talk – " He stopped. "Did you say the Yarrow case?"  
"Yes," Harry replied, wondering why that was important.  
"Marine Captain Julian Yarrow, accused of murdering Petty Officer Philip Jones?"  
"Yes," Harry repeated, now giving a strange look of his own. "How did you – "  
"Tony DiNozzo, NCIS," the man introduced himself, sticking out his hand. "We've been working the case."  
"NC..." Harry tried, shaking Tony's hand.  
"...IS," Tony finished. "Naval Criminal Investigative Service. Don't worry, not many people know us. So, you a lawyer?"  
"Criminal defense attorney," Harry answered automatically. It was more a matter of habit now than pride. "My name's Harry."  
"Just Harry?" Tony prodded.  
Harry sighed. He hated this part of meeting new people. "Harrison Ford."  
"You're joking," Tony grinned. "Is your name seriously Harrison Ford?"  
"Yes," Harry acknowledged. "You can see why I go by Harry."  
"Yeah. That's funny, though, Harrison Ford..." Tony stopped at the look on Harry's face. "Okay. Well, um, do you want to borrow a razor and some shoes?"  
"You trust me?" Harry asked incredulously.  
"Hey, man, I was a cop. I can read people like a book."  
"Thanks. I really appreciate it."  
"No problem. Say, you oughta come in with me. Meet my boss. We've got some evidence that we don't know quite what to do with. You might like to see it."  
"Oh, I don't know. I really have to get to work."  
"Okay. Well, here's my card if you change your mind. Address is on there."  
"Thanks."  
"Now, about that razor..." 


	2. When Harry Met Gibbs

Harry, now shaven and shod, jumped on a bus to his office. Combing his hair one last time and straightening his tie, he entered the impressive building. Taking the elevator to the top, he took a deep breath and stepped into the boss's outer office.  
"Hello, may I help you?" A polite female voice asked.  
Harry turned and spotted the receptionist, a not-altogether- unattractive blonde. He thought he remembered meeting her once before. "Yes. I need to see Mr. Kilgore."  
"Do you have an appointment?"  
"I was told he wanted to see me."  
"Name?" The receptionist asked, opening an appointment book.  
"Harrison Ford," Harry sighed. Her eyes flicked up from the book, as if she were about to tell him off for joking around. Hiding a smile, she flipped several pages before shaking her head.  
"I'm sorry, Mr. Ford. There's no appointment for you in here."  
"I work here. I need to talk to Mr. Kilgore about the Yarrow case."  
"We have no employees by the name of Harrison Ford, sir. Trust me, I'd remember," she smiled politely but coldly. He was not going to get any farther with her.  
Nodding his thanks, he stepped back into the elevator, suddenly cold. Punching the button for his floor, he hurried out of the elevator and collided with a solid body.  
"Hey, watch it!" a familiar voice said angrily.  
"Peter?"  
The man scrutinized Harry carefully. "Do I know you?"  
"Peter, it's me. Harry."  
"Harry...?" Peter inquired.  
"Ford."  
"Sorry, I don't know anyone by that name." Peter stepped around Harry and closed the elevator. Harry stood, dejected and bewildered, for a few moments before remembering why he was there in the first place. He walked quickly, resisting the urge to run, to his office. Or what had been his office.  
"Who are you?" he asked rudely, bursting in on the new occupant.  
"Timothy Burke," the man answered, coming around his desk. "Do you have an appointment, Mr....?"  
"No," Harry said shortly. "Why are you in my office?"  
"I'm sorry, your office? I've had this office for a year. Janice!" he called out the door. A woman poked her head in the door.  
"Yes, Mr. Burke?"  
"Could you please escort this gentleman out? He seems to be a bit confused."  
"I'm not confused! This is my office! I work here! I'm working on the Yarrow case! Let go of me!" Harry shook off the secretary's hand.  
"Excuse me, sir," Burke said calmly. "I don't know who you are or why you've come here. But I can assure you, this is my office and I am working on the Yarrow case. If you do not leave with Janice right now, I will have no choice but to call security." He picked up the phone threateningly. Harry put up his hands in a gesture of surrender.  
"Fine. All right. I don't know what kind of sick joke this is, but I'll play along. I'm leaving now, okay?" He stalked out of the office, almost shaking with anger and confusion. _What's going on? Where is my life?  
_ Reaching the street, he looked around. What was he supposed to do now? No apartment, no job. Dazed, he started walking. He didn't know where he was going, and it didn't really matter. Was this all some kind of joke? It couldn't be; there were too many variables, too much complexity. Whoever had orchestrated the joke couldn't possibly have thought of everyone he would talk to. Everyone he had talked to...Tony! Harry dug in his pockets for the card and read the address. _That's not too far from here_, he thought. _What the heck? It's not like I've got anything else to do.  
_ With a new sense of purpose, he set out for NCIS Headquarters. Arriving at the address, he saw a fairly large red brick building with a simple sign out front reading 'NCIS'. He took a deep breath and walked in the front door. Obtaining a visitor's pass from the front desk, he asked where he might find Tony DiNozzo. The receptionist pointed him upstairs.  
Exiting the elevator, he looked around nervously. This appeared to be the hub of the office; people were streaming back and forth, carrying files and chatting about cases. Gulping, he stepped into the fray. How would he ever find Tony in this? He started wading in one direction, any direction, hoping it would be the right one. He caught snatches of conversations from several people along the way.  
"...evidence not sufficient..."  
"...found in an elevator."  
"DNA matches..."  
"...and oh, man, was she hot!" a familiar voice broke through the babble.  
"Tony!" Harry called, searching for the source of the voice.  
"Hey, Harry, what's up? Decided to come by after all?" Tony sat at a desk in a small cubicle. Nearby was an attractive brunette who looked as if she were trying to block out Tony's voice.  
"Yeah," Harry answered. "Listen, something really weird happened at my office – "  
"DiNozzo, who is this?" a gruff voice interrupted. Tony grinned, mouthing, 'Sorry, Harry.'  
"This, boss, is Harrison Ford," he crowed. Harry thought he saw the brunette snicker.  
"DiNozzo..." the voice threatened.  
"I'm serious, boss! Harry, meet my boss, Special Agent Gibbs."  
Harry turned around slowly. The voice did not sound friendly. He was startled by what he saw. "Holy cow, Mark Harmon! My sister's crazy about you. Say, do you think I could get an autograph for..." he trailed off. The man did not look happy.  
"What is he talking about, DiNozzo?" Harry bristled. Nothing like being talked about while you're right there.  
"I, uh, don't...know, boss. Harry?" Tony was starting to sound a bit concerned, as if reconsidering inviting the shoeless man into his apartment earlier.  
Harry thought fast. He had no clue what was going on here, but he decided he'd better play along if he wanted to find out. "Oh, um, sorry. I...you...look like a movie star I...uh...saw once. Sorry," he repeated.  
Gibbs looked at Harry for a long moment, sizing him up, before sitting at his desk. "Why are you here, Mr. Ford?"  
"I'm defending Captain Yarrow."  
"You are?"  
"Yes," Harry said curtly. He didn't much like this Gibbs questioning everything he said.  
"What happened to Timothy Burke?" Gibbs asked matter-of-factly.  
"Nothing. We're working together," Harry lied smoothly.  
"Really."  
"Really." Harry met Gibbs' eye fearlessly. He was a lawyer, for Pete's sake, he could bend the truth with the best of them.  
"Can I see some ID?"  
"Sure. Here, my driver's license." Harry was nearing his boiling point. That Gibbs had some nerve. Gibbs checked it over, then handed it back.  
"Tony, take Mr. Ford to Abby. Tell him what we have."  
"C'mon, Harry. I think you'll like Abby." Harry dutifully followed Tony from the area.  
"Kate," Gibbs said quietly when they were gone. "Do a full background check on him. Something's not right."  
"Got it." Kate began typing furiously. An hour later, she frowned and muttered, "That's odd..."  
"What's odd?" Gibbs asked, not missing a trick.  
"You said his driver's license was Maryland, right?" Gibbs nodded. "Well, no one named Harrison Ford has a driver's license in Maryland. And that's not all. I estimated his age to be thirty. Even with a three-year margin of error on either side, there was no one born in the US by the name of Harrison Ford in that time. I also checked the Maryland and Virginia bars. Not there, either."  
"So Mr. Ford has a false driver's license and is impersonating an attorney. Those are some serious charges."  
"You really think he's lying? He seemed like such a nice guy."  
Gibbs gave her a look, as if reminding her of the last 'nice guy' with 'kind eyes'. "Kate, either he's lying or – "  
"Or he doesn't exist." 


	3. A Harry Situation

"And this bad boy – " Abby started, showing off her lab equipment with pride. "Gibbs! I was just showing Harrison Ford around my lab."  
"Please," Harry pleaded. "It's Harry."  
"Harrison Ford," Gibbs began, met with a disgusted look from Harry. "You are under arrest for the possession of false identification, impersonating an attorney, and lying to a law enforcement officer."  
"What? What is this?" Harry yelled as Gibbs wrestled his wrists into cuffs.  
"You have the right to remain silent. Should you give up this right, anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law," Gibbs continued, unfazed.  
"Boss, what's going on?" Tony asked, alarmed.  
"Harrison Ford does not exist in the states of Maryland or Virginia. He has no driver's license and he has not taken the bar exam."  
"What?" Harry exclaimed. "What are you talking about?"  
"Mr. Ford, you have the right to have an attorney present during questioning – "  
"I am an attorney!"  
"Not according to the state," Gibbs declared.  
"Look, I know my rights, okay? I just want to know what's going on."  
"I told you, Ford. Now hand over your driver's license."  
"That's really hard with handcuffs on, Agent Gibbs," Harry said sarcastically. He probably wasn't helping himself with his attitude, but he was tired, angry, and confused.  
"Fine, let me help you," Gibbs grunted through clenched teeth as he forcefully turned Harry around and dug in his pockets. Finding the license, he handed it to a surprised Abby. "Check that, Abs. We need to prove it's false."  
"It's not!"  
"Ford, I suggest you exercise your right to remain silent before I help you with that, too!" Harry glared at Gibbs sullenly but took the advice. Gibbs glared back.  
"Wow, he can stand up to Gibbs' death stare," Tony whispered to Kate.  
"DiNozzo!" Gibbs reached over with one hand and whacked Tony's head. Harry's eyes widened. He had just seen that recently, very recently.  
Memories came flooding back. Falling onto his couch watching TV, some crime drama called...oh, what was it called? Navy CSI? Navy...something...Navy NCIS! That was it. Falling asleep...waking up to unbelievable pain...passing out on the couch...waking up on the park bench.  
"Am I dead?" Harry whispered to no one in particular.  
"You will be if you tell us any more lies," Gibbs growled.  
"Gibbs, DiNozzo...oh, what's the other one's name?" Harry muttered, unaware of his surroundings. "Taylor...Thompson...To...To...Todd! Kate Todd!"  
"How'd you know my name?" Kate asked.  
Harry didn't answer her. "This is...this is unbelievable! I'm actually in a TV show," he exclaimed softly.  
"What's he talking about, Kate?" Tony asked.  
"How should I know? He's your friend," Kate replied.  
"Hey, I just met him this morning," Tony defended himself.  
Just then, Harry spoke in volumes they didn't have to strain to hear. Realizing what he had been saying, he called out clearly, "I think I'm crazy." 


	4. There's Something About Harry

A/N: This chapter contains a small reference to one of my other stories, "Harry Potter and Interagency Cooperation". You may want to read it for clarity, but the majority of the story has nothing to do with it.

------------  
  
"He said it himself. He's crazy."  
"Actually, the fact that he thinks he's crazy is pretty good indicator that he's not."  
"Kate," Tony said, as if explaining to a small child. "Do you really think that we are on a TV show and that Harry got transferred into this TV show magically?"  
"Well, no, but that doesn't mean he's crazy."  
"No, not at all. He's just delusional! Kate, he looked Gibbs in the eye and returned the death stare. How many sane people can do that?"  
"That's actually a good point, Tony."  
"Thank you. Then you agree that he's crazy."  
"No. I think he's confused. Maybe a little...prone to fantasy."  
"Kate, those are really nice and polite words for insane."  
"Tony, how would he know about Yarrow?"  
Tony opened his mouth to reply, then shut it. "Okay, point for you. But I still have a preponderance of evidence."  
"I still have a reasonable doubt."  
"What are you two, lawyers?" Gibbs interrupted, arriving with his coffee.  
"We were discussing Harry, boss."  
"Ah. What did you come up with?"  
"Well, we were still debating whether or not he's insane."  
"Hmm."  
"Tony," Kate suddenly had a thought. "Didn't you ever see Pleasantville?"  
"Kate," Tony pleaded. "That's a movie. Fiction. This is reality! Unless you believe Harry, in which case this is indeed fiction and we don't exist."  
"Hear me out. I'm not saying I believe him. I'm just saying, he had to get his idea from somewhere."  
"Right. Sooo, he believes a movie plot is true. That's not insane at all!"  
"You two will drive me insane," Gibbs growled.  
"What do you think, Gibbs?" Kate asked.  
Gibbs thought for a moment. "He's an odd one, that's for sure. He's not lying; I know that. So, either he's crazy or his story is true. I can't believe his story, but he doesn't strike me as insane. His behavior certainly doesn't indicate it."  
"Well, not all crazy people act crazy. Could be just this one delusion."  
"If we just had some proof. The scene, a witness, a photo..." Kate trailed off.  
Gibbs suddenly remembered something. Checking that the other two were too absorbed in their argument to notice him, he reached into his shirt pocket and removed a small black and white photo. Smiling slightly as three grinning teens waved back at him, he tucked the picture safely back in its place.  
"I believe him," he declared softly. Tony and Kate didn't hear him at first and continued squabbling.  
"Tony, you just have to expand your mind a little."  
"A little?! That's a big stretch for anyone's mind, Kate. Wait a sec," Tony turned toward Gibbs. "Did you say you believe him, boss?"  
"Did I stutter, DiNozzo?" Gibbs barked.  
"But," Tony struggled for words. "Why? What changed your mind?"  
"My mind hasn't changed; it was never made up. Now it is."  
"But, but," Tony stammered. "But boss! It's so...irrational!"  
"You're one to talk about irrational, Tony," Kate chimed in.  
"You're the one who arrested him, for Pete's sake!" Tony was almost yelling now, desperate to understand why Gibbs was buying the story.  
"DiNozzo," Gibbs started, unsure of how to explain. "Sometimes, the impossible _can_ happen."


	5. Harry's World

"Look, I don't have it on me," Harry pleaded with the guard. "But let me out and I'll get it right away. I'm a lawyer, man, I'm rolling in it."  
  
"Hey, pal, no cash, no bail, no leaving."  
  
"But I'm telling you – " Harry began. "Gibbs?"  
  
Gibbs walked straight to the cell, ignoring the policewoman who had accompanied him. Speaking directly to Harry, he did not mince words. "Ford, I don't like you."  
  
"Oh, gee, thanks," Harry bit off. Had he come all the way down here to say that?  
  
"I'm not finished. You're a cocky, arrogant bastard."  
  
"Hey, look, I don't need – "  
  
"But," Gibbs continued as if he hadn't heard. "I believe you."  
  
"You do?" Harry asked incredulously. "Why? I don't even believe me."  
  
"Long story. Come on, let's get you out of here."  
  
The policewoman stepped out of the shadows where she had been chatting with the guard and produced a key ring.  
  
"Mr. Gibbs here has posted bail and agreed to keep an eye on you until your trial. You are not to leave the area, understood?"  
  
Harry nodded. He didn't want to leave the area; he just wanted his life back.  
  
"So, where're we going?" he asked Gibbs.  
  
"My place. But first you have some explaining to do."

----------

"I thought we'd already been over this," Harry said over his coffee mug. The three agents blinked back at him.  
  
"Yeah, but this time I want details. Things you don't even think are important," Gibbs pressed, the investigator taking over.  
  
"Okay. Where I come from, you guys are the stars of a TV show called 'Navy NCIS'."  
  
"Isn't that a little redundant?" Tony asked.  
  
"I guess. Now, I'm not real familiar with it. My sister made me watch once or twice. She absolutely adores you," he said to Gibbs. "Or rather, the actor who plays you. His name is Mark Harmon."  
  
"This is too weird," Tony muttered. Truth be told, he still thought Harry was crazy but Gibbs believed him and Gibbs was never wrong.  
  
"You're telling me," Harry snorted. "Anyway. I came home Tuesday night and flipped on the TV. I think your show was on; I'm not sure. I listened to my messages, one from work and one from my sister, and fell asleep on the couch. I woke up in excruciating pain and then passed out. When I came to, I was on the park bench," Harry finished and looked up as if expecting the answer to be written on their faces.  
  
"When you woke up the first time," Gibbs frowned, trying to figure it out. "Do you remember anything else?"  
  
Harry thought. "I think...maybe there were sparks, by the TV. And my feet were wet; I remember that."  
  
"Your feet were wet?"  
  
"Yeah," Harry recalled. "It was raining out and water had gotten in my shoes. My feet were soaked and so was the floor."  
  
"Was it just raining?"  
  
"No...there was thunder and lightning, too."  
  
"The pain you felt: Was it like anything you've felt before?" Harry could see that Gibbs had figured it out and was testing his theory.  
  
"Not really. I guess the closest thing would be when I stuck a fork in the wall socket. But this was a million times worse."  
  
"You stuck a fork in the wall socket?" Kate asked.  
  
"I was nine," Harry explained. "Trying to sucker my little brother into doing it. I accidentally stuck it in too far."  
  
Kate struggled not to smile. Harry shrugged. "You can laugh. It was a long time ago." She did, and he smiled at her. Gibbs' eyes narrowed.  
  
"So, Ford, you've mentioned a brother and a sister. Names and ages?"  
  
"My brother Ryan is 27 and my sister Amy is 20. She was a bit of a surprise," he added.  
  
"Parents?"  
  
"Tom and Elyse Ford."  
  
"Kate?" Gibbs directed.  
  
"On it," she answered, gathering her things to leave. "Nice seeing you again, Harry."  
  
Harry smiled and waved. Gibbs cleared his throat. "Kate'll call them up. See if you ever existed here. If this really is some kind of..." Gibbs searched for the word.  
  
"Alternate universe?" Tony supplied.  
  
"Right. Then you may have existed here at one time."  
  
"So, I could be dead? Is that what you mean?"  
  
Gibbs thought a moment, then nodded. "Yeah."  
  
Harry sighed. Something suddenly struck him. "Hey, Gibbs. You don't seem like the kind of guy who believes in alternate universes and that kind of stuff. Why do you believe me?"  
  
"DiNozzo, get me some coffee."  
  
"But, boss, you already have – "  
  
"Now, DiNozzo!" Gibbs barked. Leaning in towards Harry, he lowered his voice conspiratorially. "Ford, you're a lot like me. We don't take crap from people; we don't believe anything unless we've got proof. Funny thing is, it's guys like us who unbelievable things happen to. Let's just say, I've learned to believe the unbelievable." 


	6. Life of Harry

"You'll sleep here," Gibbs said, pointing out the master bedroom.  
  
"Er, okay," Harry agreed hesitantly. "Where will you be?"  
  
"In the basement." Gibbs offered no additional explanation.  
  
"Say, Gibbs, can I ask you a question?"  
  
"You just did."  
  
"Is Kate, y'know, available?"  
  
Gibbs paused, sizing Harry up. "Yeah. Why?"  
  
"Well, she is good-looking. Smart, too. I dunno," Harry shrugged. "I thought maybe..."  
  
"A word of advice, Ford," Gibbs growled. "Kate doesn't go in for guys like us. Addicted to our jobs, arrogant bastards; she deserves better. Understand?"  
  
Harry thought the 'advice' sounded a bit more like an order, but he understood perfectly: Gibbs was a pro at masking his feelings. If not for that little outburst, Harry never would have guessed...He decided to change the subject.  
  
"So, what's your theory on how I got here?"  
  
"You haven't figured it out yet?"  
  
"I've got several ideas. I just wanted to know what you thought," Harry said defensively.  
  
"Lightning," Gibbs provided. "Though beyond that..."  
  
"Wouldn't lightning've killed me?"  
  
"Not necessarily. Although that might explain this a little better."  
  
"What, this is the afterlife?" Harry scoffed.  
  
"I hope not," Gibbs snorted. "No, I meant you could be dy_ing_ and this is your final..." Gibbs trailed off, suddenly realizing what he was saying.  
  
"Hallucination? I read a book like that once."  
  
"Just a theory. On the other hand, you could actually have been transported to a – " Gibbs stopped himself. "You know what? Maybe we're both crazy."  
  
Gibbs' cell buzzed just then, interrupting the strange conversation.  
  
"Gibbs...Took you long enough...Mhm...Interesting...Okay. Thanks, Kate. Good work." Flipping the phone closed, Gibbs looked carefully at Harry.  
  
"Well?" Harry said impatiently.  
  
"Kate contacted your parents. Asked them if they had a son named Harrison. They got very upset and it took Kate a while to get the information. Apparently, about thirty years ago, Mrs. Ford was pregnant with a boy they were going to name Harrison. She miscarried."  
  
Harry's eyes widened and he ran a hand through his hair. "So you were right. I am dead here. This just gets weirder and weirder." 


	7. Harry of Dog

Harry could not sleep. The bed was comfortable enough; indeed it seemed almost as if it had never been slept on. The problem was his thoughts. He could not stop the events of the day from running through his mind again and again. He was hardly surprised – it had been an awfully eventful day – but he would still have liked to sleep. Thinking that perhaps a glass of...something...would help, he rose and walked into the kitchen.

Squinting at the clock, he made the time out to be about 1 AM. Trying to step quietly, so as not to wake his host, he opened to fridge to see if Gibbs had some milk. Childish as it may have seemed, he found that warm milk really did help insomnia. Suddenly, he straightened. A muffled sound was coming from the basement. His exhausted and overwhelmed brain instantly suspected intruders and he searched quickly for something to defend himself with. A gargantuan Mag-Lite suited him and he crept downstairs. The light was on, which surprised him. He figured robbers would have the good sense to keep a low profile. Leaping the rest of the way down the stairs, he raised the flashlight/club over his head and yelled, "Freeze!"

Looking back, he realized that his course of action was probably not the wisest. If the intruders had a firearm, he realized belatedly, his club would do little good from 10 feet away. And indeed, when the man swung around his hand was wrapped around a 9mm. The grip was unbelievably steady as Harry noticed with horror that the weapon was pointed directly at his head.

"Ford! What the hell are you doing?" Gibbs snapped, lowering the weapon and looking at Harry strangely.

Harry realized that he was standing in a relative stranger's basement in only his underwear, holding a flashlight above his head. Bringing the flashlight down to his side, he tried not to look too embarrassed as he answered. "I was in the kitchen and I, uh, thought I heard intruders."

Harry was sure that had it not been Gibbs, the man would have been laughing hysterically. As it was, he simply shook his head and went back to work. Harry noticed for the first time the large boat frame dominating the room.

"Wow. You build this?"

"Yeah," Gibbs grunted, working the plane.

Harry was initially surprised at the lack of power tools, then reminded himself what kind of man Gibbs was. "You always work this late?"

"Sometimes." The late hour did not make Gibbs any more loquacious, Harry noted.

"Well, I...guess I'll be going back to bed."

"Okay." Harry was at the bottom of the stairs before Gibbs called out, "Hey, Ford! What were you doing up, anyway?"

"Couldn't sleep."

"Don't blame you. Need something to help?"

"Well, actually, I was getting a glass of milk when..." Harry trailed off, half-lifting the flashlight in explanation.

"Milk?" Gibbs asked, almost with disgust. "I meant something more like..._this_." He tossed a bottle to Harry, who turned it over and looked at the label.

"Bourbon?"

"Yeah. Couple of swigs of that and you'll sleep like a baby," Gibbs grinned.

"Then why are you still up?" Harry observed.

"Ha. Just like a lawyer," Gibbs snorted. "Didn't have any."

There was a long silence as Gibbs turned back to his work. Harry gazed at the bottle and thought, _What the heck?_ Opening the top, he took a swig. And choked. He did manage not to spit the stuff out, but it burned like the dickens going down.

"How long have you had this?" he wheezed.

"Probably...couple years. Why?"

"It's...strong," Harry understated. Gibbs chuckled. Harry tried a couple more mouthfuls, finding that it went down easier every time. _Gibbs was right, _he thought. He was starting to feel pleasantly warm and sleepy.

Heading back to bed, the bourbon began to override the confusion in his mind. Slipping under the covers, he realized just how exhausted he was. He was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

With sleep came dreams. Some were just silly, like the one where his sister made him dress like a chicken and dance. (She always did have him wrapped around her little finger.) But one stood out from the rest. He would remember this one when he woke.

He was watching from outside himself, a passive observer. He saw himself standing by the park bench on which he had woken up that morning. It was storming, but still he stood there, something in his hands raised above his head. A...lightning rod? He raised the lightning rod a little higher, trying to...trying to...what _was_ he trying to do? It hit him like the bolt of lightning that suddenly illuminated the sky. Finding a suitable target in the lightning rod in his hands, it struck, traveling through the metal and his body. And then his body disappeared.

Harry woke at 7, his body fully refreshed and his mind ready with an answer to his predicament. Dressing quickly, he almost ran through the rest of the house looking for Gibbs. He found him in the basement, working on the boat.

"Did you ever get to sleep?" Harry asked.

"Got a couple hours under here," Gibbs answered.

"I had a dream," Harry blurted, eager to tell someone his solution.

"That one day this nation will rise up..." Gibbs quipped.

"Haha. No, about how to get me home."

"Shoot," Gibbs prompted.

"I stand by the park bench where I woke up this morning, holding a lightning rod, and get myself struck by lightning." Even as Harry said it, he realized that it sounded silly. Gibbs just looked at him. "I know it sounds stupid, but I think it might work. I got here by lightning; makes sense to go back the same way."

"Ford, look. I don't know how you got here. Yes, I expect lightning had something to do with it, but we can't know the details. Assuming you get struck again, what's to say you don't die? Or, maybe even worse, what if you get to the wrong...universe? It's risky."

"I know that! But if you've got any other suggestions, I'm open to them. Besides, I'm willing to take the risk. It's my hide; shouldn't it be _my _choice?"

Gibbs scrutinized him for a long moment, considering his words. Finally, he shrugged and nodded. "Okay, Ford. Your call."


	8. HarryBrained Scheme

"Are you insane?"

"That seems to be the question," Harry replied dryly. Tony shrugged sheepishly, still not thrilled with Harry's idea.

"Harry," Kate spoke up with concern. "You could be killed."

Gibbs frowned at the care in her voice. "It's his choice to make."

"That's true," Kate conceded. "But I sure don't want to watch. Please, Harry, reconsider."

Harry smiled gratefully at Kate but was firm in his decision. "There's no other way."

"He'll be fine," Gibbs growled, ending the conversation.

----------

A flash of lightning illuminated the park bench for an instant before the scene was re-thrust into complete darkness. Thunder rolled soon after, filling the air with an incredible roar. The two men stood, dripping wet, considering the area.

"This is it, Ford," Gibbs commented grimly.

"Yeah," Harry sighed.

"Scared?"

"Wouldn't you be?"

Gibbs didn't answer, choosing instead to hand Harry the long metal shaft he was carrying. Harry looked at the rod in his hand and swallowed hard. True, there was no other way, but this was suddenly looking extremely dangerous. Was it worth the risk?

Harry thought of his sister, his brother, his parents. Here, he was all alone. Sure, Gibbs and his team were friendly, but they weren't family. He had made his decision.

Hefting the lightning rod, he walked slowly to the park bench. Sufficiently wet, he found a puddle to stand in and lifted the rod over his head. Realizing suddenly what he must look like, he was glad there was no one out on this lousy night to see him.

"Well, here's hoping." Harry tried to smile at Gibbs, but his muscles didn't seem to be working.

"Yeah. Good luck, Harry."

Harry was startled for a second by the use of his given name but didn't have time to dwell on it. A sudden flash lit up the sky and a bolt of lightning streaked downward. Seeking out the easiest route to the ground, it found Harry's lightning rod held high and eagerly pursued that path. Harry felt an intense pain throughout his body and would have screamed but his mouth was frozen shut. His mind briefly registered the look of horror on Gibbs' face before everything went black.

----------

Harry groaned and rolled over in bed. Or tried to. Something was pinning his arm to the bed. Come to think of it, this wasn't his bed. Sitting up, he realized he must have fallen asleep on the couch again. It wasn't unusual.

Searching for the source of the pressure on his arm, he turned. His eyes widened in shock as the reason became horribly, inescapably clear.

A head rose from beside Harry, the silver hair tousled. Deep, bright blue eyes opened, only slightly clouded by confusion. A gruff voice, thickened by sleep and uncertainty, spoke up.

"What's going on?"

"Uh-oh..."

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This is the end. I will leave it to your imagination what may or may not happen next. If any one wants to attack the sequel, you have my permission. (I do ask that you reference this story in some manner.) Thanks for reading and reviewing!


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